


Naughty CS Drabbles & Prompts

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, PWP without Porn, Sexy Times, Smut, Suggestive Themes, naughty captain swan, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-01-16 04:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18513820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: A collection of drabbles and prompts of a suggestive nature. Some drabbles are stand alone, while others may connect to future prompts. Related drabbles will be listed in the chapter notes.





	1. CS Movie Divergent Drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suggestive Starters:  i can tell you’re hot and bothered from all the way over here & you know you want it
> 
> ~/~ indicates the start of the next prompt

 

* * *

“I can tell you’re hot and bothered from all the way over here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Admit it, Swan. My past self had quite an effect on you.”

“I admit nothing.” 

There was no way Emma would give him the satisfaction of knowing just how  _affected_ she was by him. Or past him, anyway. How her lips still tingled from where his lips had pressed against hers, or how she could still feel the heat of his hand on her skin. Or maybe that was just the fire. Yeah, that had to be it.

She wet her lips and could taste the rum from Hook’s tongue; that, and the salty sheen of his face from when their kisses had become sloppy with distraction. For her, distraction in keeping him occupied. For him, distraction of too much rum and desire flowing through his veins. 

Okay. Fine. It had run through her veins, too. The desire, that is. She’d only pretended to drink the rum.

“Deny it all you want, Swan,” he said as he casually tossed bits of forest into the fire. “Just answer me one question.”

“What?”

“What would have happened if I hadn’t still been on the Jolly Roger?”

His casual demeanor evaporated when his eyes flicked up from the fire to meet her gaze. Even from this distance she could see storm clouds swirling in their depths. Emma swallowed and considered his question. She hadn’t really had a plan. When she’d descended the stairs into his cabin she thought of finding something to knock him over the head with, but had run into Killian instead. 

No, that wasn’t true. For a brief flickering moment the giddy excitement had almost been real. The idea of fooling around with Hook when there was no danger to his feelings had been more than a little tempting. She had never denied his appealed, even if she had buried the feelings that had been growing for him deep down where she could try ( _and fail_ ) to forget them. It had been fun to flirt back with the pirate, to give as good as he gave. So, maybe if Killian hadn’t been there…

“Nothing,” she answered assuredly, tearing her eyes from his and focusing them back onto the dancing flames of the fire.

“Truly?”

“Yeah,” she answered a bit more adamantly. “I was planning to knock him out, okay?”

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

“Why’s that?” Emma wasn’t sure why, but his response got her dander up. Did he not think she could take care of herself? She didn’t need some knight in shining armor ( _or pirate in sexy leather_ ) to rescue her. “You don’t think I could have handled full on Captain Hook?”

Hook chuckled, “Oh, I think you would have  _handled_ him just fine, love. I fear, in his condition, he wouldn’t have been able to handle  _you_ properly, though.” The storm clouds continued to swirl, but where moments ago they had gusted with anger, now they were being stirred up by something a bit more heated. “I bristle at the thought of your first encounter with me being less than…  _satisfying_ for you.”

“Are you saying you think you could do better at  _handling_ me than he could have?”  _Whoa, Emma_ … where was this coming from?  _Who cares?_

“I don’t think it, Swan. I know it.” The pop of his  _t_  had her abandoning all concern over the fresh swell of desire cresting within her.

“Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Aye.”

“Careful, Hook,” she warned coyly. “I might have to make you put your money where your mouth is.”

“I’m not altogether familiar with the expression, but I do know where I’d like to put my mouth right now.”

When had they gotten so close? Moments ago they were on opposite ends of a downed tree, and now she was practically in his lap.

“And where is that, exactly?” she breathed against his lips.

“Pull up your skirts, and I’ll show you.”

~/~

“You know you want it,” Hook purred against her lips. A twinkle of mirth flashed in his eyes in response to her wide-eyed shock from his words. “You’ve wanted it all evening. I can tell from the flush of your skin,” his hand caressed along her exposed collarbone, sending a shudder of want down her spine, “and the way you shift your body as you press your thighs together. Your wet and aching for me, aren’t you love?”

His voice was like sin wrapped in silk. The moment his lips brushed against her neck, Emma knew she was a goner.  “Oh, god.”

“Captain will do.”

Emma groaned at him, and not in the good way. “Don’t let your mouth ruin this for you now, Hook.”

“Trust me, darling,” he murmured into her skin. “The only thing my mouth is going to ruin, is you.”

Without warning, Emma found herself flat on her back with her legs straddling the downed tree before Hook disappeared under the voluminous amount of skirts her Enchanted Forest wear required, with little effort. The cool metal of his hook slid along her hip just moments before she felt her underwear being torn from her body. Hook and hand gently, but insistently, pressed against the insides of her thighs, spreading her legs wider a part. The rough callouses of his hand, paired with the cool smooth metal of his hook and his warm breath ghosting over her core had Emma flushing hot with an indescribable need before he’d even taken his first taste.

Ruined, indeed.

His fingers spread her slick folds, giving his tongue a wide strip to lavish its attentions on, but the damnable man made her wait in excruciating anticipation. She wiggled her hips, attempting to slide closer to his mouth, which she could feel hovering over her now seriously aching flesh. He chuckled, and a muffled  _patience, love_ could be heard from beneath her skirts.

Gods he was so close. The vapor of his words across her skin sent sparks through her body, and had her muscles tightening in frustration.

“I’ve never been known for my patience, Ho-OH!”

Finally!

Her hips bucked when his coarse tongue laved a long stripe from back to front, catching fire to her nerve endings and stealing the breath from her lungs. His heavy braced arm draped over her middle in an effort to keep her still and positioned right where he wanted her. Bunching up her skirts in her hands, she pulled the layers of fabric towards her waist until the shock of his dark hair between her legs was visible. His eyes flicked up to meet hers as tongue magically fluttered against her clit, and even with his mouth otherwise occupied, he still managed to give her one of his insufferably smug smirks.

Fuck, did she love that smirk.

The bastard took great joy in bringing her to the brink again and again, only to deny her an sense of relief. She not so gently rocked her hips against his mouth, on the verge of exasperated tears, her hand buried in his hair, grasping desperately at the silken strands between her fingers.

“Hook,” Emma moaned in a half whine. “Please!”

“Say  _my_ name, love. Not his. I want to hear you say  _my_  name.”

“Killian,” she complied breathlessly. “Killian, please.”

His tongue and teeth pillaged and plundered their way through her sex, mercilessly ravaging every inch of her throbbing core. He gave a grunted response when she tightened her grip on his hair, now painfully clutched in her fist.

“Yes!” she cried out. “Fuck me, yes!”

“That’s the idea,” he quipped darkly before sucking her clit between his teeth and filling her with his fingers, curling and pumping them against her inner walls at just the right spot where the stars shining in the sky above her weren’t the only ones she was seeing.

Her legs shook, and with a few more rapid flicks of his tongue he gave her the satisfaction she’d been craving all night long (or ever sense she’d met him. Take your pick.). His name echoed off the trees as her orgasm steamrolled its way through her entire body; a toe curling, back arching, eyes rolling into the back of your head kind of release that had her panting in rhythm with her racing heart. 

The soft breeze of night air hit her skin, covered with a thin sheen of perspiration, cooling her overheated flesh until it raised in prickling waves and sent a shivering tremor over her. With hooded eyes, she glance down her body to see Killian still positioned with his head between her thighs.

“Have you got your bearings back yet, Swan?”

“I think so,” she exhaled on a shaky breath.

“Good.” The cold metal of his hook glided across her over sensitive skin, jolting her. “Because I’m not done with you yet. Not by half.”

Emma swallowed thickly. The deadly tip of his hook brushed over her clit, sending micro tremors though her extremities.

“You’re not?”

“Oh, no, love,” he smiled wickedly before burying his head between her legs again. “We’re just getting started.”

 


	2. Neverland Challenges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neverland based connected drabbles: i wonder if you’re as loud in bed as your are everywhere else / i’m this close to taking you over my knee / i like you better on your knees / you’re being a very bad boy/girl
> 
> ~/~ indicates the start of the next prompt

* * *

 

“I wonder if you’re as talkative in bed as you are everywhere else.” Emma slapped her hand over her mouth, and shut her eyes in mortification. She did  _not_ just say that out loud.

A deep chuckle preceded Killian’s cocky grin and sparkling amused eyes, which came into view after he stopped and turned around to face her. “Ordinarily. Unless my mouth is otherwise…  _occupied_.” He took another step towards her, pressing into her personal space, as he’d been prone to do since they’d arrived in Neverland. Hell, since the moment they’d reached the top of that beanstalk. “Why, Swan? Looking for a way to shut me up?” His brows rose as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. The heat of the jungle and the damnable man’s smolder made Emma a little light headed.

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave his a stern look. “I already know how to shut you up.”

“That so?” he questioned, taking another step closer. “What did you have in mind, love?”

“I’m thinking,” she began, surprising him with her semi-flirtatious tone, “that you would look pretty good… in a muzzle.”

He barked out an irritatingly attractive laugh, and wagged his finger at her. “First the restraint at the beanstalk, then the handcuffs, now a muzzle? You do have a naughty side to you, don’t you Swan?”

“Keep talking and you just might find out.” Emma brushed past him and continued on down the trail towards camp before she could act on her impulse to shut him up with other methods.

“No worries there,” he called out after her with a smirk nearly as loud as his words. “I have three hundred years of vocabulary, wisdom, and  _experience_. I could go for hours.”

~/~

“I’m  _this_ close to taking you over my knee.” 

The sight of Hook trapped against the trunk of a tree, having his shadow torn from his body by another dark spectre, flashed before Emma eyes. The desperate panic she’d felt for him, and the feelings that had unleashed in order to allow her to light the flame within the coconut now brought forth a swell of rage at the man.

Neal had already given her his lame attempt at an apology, but it was Hook’s sincere lament now that they were away from camp that had her seeing red all over again. Not for the potential of losing the shadow, but for the potential of losing  _him_. He seemed hell bent on putting himself in harms way at every opportunity, and Emma was beyond done with constantly feeling churning anxiety in the pit of her stomach. It was bad enough when it had been for Henry alone, but now she could no longer deny there was a second worry doing somersaults in her gut. For Hook.

Emma dropped her hand from where she’d held it up to stop Hook’s apology in order to lay into him. “I expect that kind of childish behavior from Neal, but you? I thought you said you had three hundred years of  _wisdom_  and  _experience._ Didn’t any of that teach you that if you want to _win a woman’s heart_  you’d have to actually _live through the process!_ ”

Her tirade was cut off when Hook wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, his lips crashing down onto hers with a feverish need. A moan caught in the back of her throat when his tongue began to slide alongside hers. She buried a hand in his hair and pulled lightly on his silken tresses to position his head more to her liking as she returned the urgency of his kiss.

The periphery of her vision was hazy when they both reluctantly released the other’s mouth in order to refill their lungs. Unlike their previous  _dalliance,_ Emma was in no hurry to put anymore space than was necessary between them. A snap of a branch close by caused them both to take a quick step back though, and Emma realized she and Hook had been away from camp long enough that someone would probably come looking soon.

“We… uh. We should probably head back,” she said on a shaky breath before fixing him with stern eyes. “But don’t think we are done discussing this.”

“Oh, I know we aren’t through discussing it, Swan.” Hook leaned forward, and for a moment Emma thought (hoped?) he might kiss her again. “I, for one, am quite eager to hear more about you taking me over your knee.” He gave her a cheeky wink and strode past her, murmuring  _naughty, naughty girl_  just loud enough to pull a smile from her kiss swollen lips.

Without his great coat, Emma had quite a view of his leather clad ass all the way back to camp. Maybe taking the pirate over her knee wasn’t such a bad idea…

~/~

“I like you better on your knees.”

“Excuse me?”

“As opposed to flat on your back, like you were at Lake Nostos.” Killian offered her a hand up so they could continue their sparring lesson. She’d approached him that morning after the Lost Boys had raided their camp the night before in search of the shadow, asking him for some pointers on brandishing the sword he’d given her with better finesse.

“I seem to recall winning that fight.” Emma’s brow raised in tandem with her smug smirk as she squared herself off to face him for another bout.

“Only because I let you.” He gave her a teasing wink before swinging his blade in choreographed precision so she could practice the move he’d taught her.

His salacious comments and taunting were doing the trick, riling her up so she’d be less methodical and more passionate in her fighting. Though it was true that strong emotions could easily lead to mistakes and distraction, Hook knew that Emma’s emotions actually aided in her ability to focus. They allowed her to tap into parts of herself that held deep wells of strength, and even magic.

By the time their sparring session was over, she’d managed to surprise him with a rather cunning (and very pirate like) tactic that had him kneeling in the kicked up dirt.

“Hmm,” Emma hummed appreciatively as she held her small blade under his chin. “I think I like  _you_ better on your knees, rather than flat on your back. Which is how I left you beside that lake, if you’ll recall.”

“I recall perfectly, darling.” Hook’s eyes narrowed seductively, and he moistened his lips with his tongue, drawing her eyes to his mouth. “I wouldn’t be too hasty in your determinations, though,” he advised in a sultry tone. “I’m more than happy to demonstrate just how well you might like me on my knees, or on my back… or any other position you might prefer.”

~/~

“You’re being a very naughty boy.”

“Why don’t you put that sword down Swan, and I’ll show you just how naughty I can be.”

The heat of Hook’s gaze made Emma’s inside go molten right down to her core. She tossed aside the blade and grabbed Hook by the lapels of his coat, hoisting him back onto his feet and fusing her lips to his.

Hook pried Emma’s fingers from the collar of his coat before sliding it off his shoulders. It landed on the ground with a heavy thud, and he nearly tripped over it when she began pushing him backwards, out of the clearing they’d been sparring in, and into a narrow alcove by the cliff wall.

“So, Swan. What’ll it be?” Hook questioned between rough kisses that were quickly making her dizzy with desire. “On my knees? Or on my back?”

Emma pulled away slightly and considered the option he’d put before her. She knew exactly what she wanted from the pirate. “On your back, Captain.”

“As the lady desires,” he purred, sinking down to the ground as commanded.

“No, no, just…. keep your clothes on,” she instructed when he began tugging at the laces of his pants.

He looked up at her with furrowed brows, that quickly arched themselves high upon his forehead as he watched her strip off her jeans and underwear.

“Clothes on, huh? Obviously you just meant mine, so tell me… what do you have in mind, love?”

“Well, first. I said, I wanted you on your back.” she lifted her foot and pressed it against his chest until he was prone against the jungle floor.

“And what about you, Swan?” he questioned, wetting his lips as he continued to take in the expanse of her bare legs.

“Me?” she replied coyly while sauntering up to stand next to his head. “I’ll be the one on my knees. But since you’ve already told me that you can be just as talkative in bed as you are everywhere, I plan to have you mouth… occupied.”

A wide, feral grin stretched across Hook’s features before Emma sank to her knees and positioned herself over him. When his tongue met the slick flesh of her sex, she had to reach out and grab onto the rock wall in front her for support. Hot damn, did he have a wicked mouth on him.

“Fuck, Swan, but you taste divine.” Hook murmured from beneath her.

The vibrations of his words sent a hot rush of desire over her and caused every nerve ending to stand on end. Her entire body responded to each flutter of his tongue and delicate graze of his teeth. A moan fell from her lips, and she had to bite down on the bottom one to keep herself from crying out as she began to rock her hips against his tongue.

“That’s it, love,” he muffled. “Take you pleasure, don’t hold back.”

She pulled a hand away from the wall and slid it under her shirt, grasping her breast and teasing her already taut nipples until they became almost painfully hard.

“Yes!” she exhaled excitedly. “Yes, god, right there!”

She threw her head back and grabbed onto his hair, tugging it as she rode harder against his face. A surprised gasp stole the air from her lungs when she felt the cool, sharp tip of his metal hook slide against her sensitive flesh. The sensation sent her tumbling over the edge, and Hook’s hand reached up to cover her mouth when she started to cry out his moniker. Wave after wave of mind blowing pleasure crashed over her as Hook increased the vigor of his ministrations until she collapsed backwards.

“Naughty enough for you, Swan?”

Emma suppressed a giggle and moved off of him. “I suppose so.”

She was about to grab her pants when she felt Hook take her by the waist. Picking her up, he spun her around and pressed the front of her body against the cliff wall.

“You suppose so?” he growled seductively into her ear. “ Well, then. I  _suppose_  I’ll just have to try harder.”

The curve of his hook cradled her wrist and lifted it above her head towards the wall. “Just place your hand here,” he instructed. “That’s a good girl.”

Emma pressed her left palm against the cliff wall then startled when his hook embedded itself into the rock face, trapping her wrist beneath it. His hand brushed her hair back off her shoulder, and she shivered at the feel of his breath against her neck.

“Now, love. Shall we see if the experience of you coming on my cock is any less incredible than when you did all over my face?”

“Do you plan to jab me with your sword, Captain?” Emma taunted, feeling the tip of his member brush against her when he managed to free himself from his pants.

“Oh, aye, love.” His voice dropped to a tone of pure sin as he asked, “Are you ready to feel it?”


	3. Challenge Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge accepted connected drabbles: is that a challenge? / i hope you don’t plan on walking much tomorrow
> 
> ~/~ indicates the start of the next prompt

* * *

 

“Is that a challenge?”

“Is that a note of hesitation?”

“No.”

“Well then…” Killian’s voice trailed off, his brows raised in taunting expectation. Emma hated those brows.

(No, she didn’t.)

“Let me get this straight.” Emma turned her body towards him on her bar stool, and took one last sip of her drink before continuing. “You don’t think I have the  _balls_ to finally pull the trigger on this supposed infatuation you  _think_ I have on someone in this bar. Am I understanding this right?”

“I don’t  _think_  it, I  _know_ it,” Killian smirked, now bringing his own glass up to his lips to finish his rum. He licked an errant drop from the corner of his mouth, and Emma bite down on her lip. “And as for the  _balls_ … you’ll forgive me if I continue to hope that, out of the two of us, I am the only one in possession of those.”

Emma threw back the rest of her drink, slapped some bills onto the bar, and hopped off of her stool. Killian furrowed his brows at her (yep… she loved them), before she held out her hand towards him, and stated, “Challenged accepted, Jones.” Now she was the one with the raised expectant brows.

“I beg your pardon?” His stunned expression was adorable, and Emma couldn’t remember a time she’d ever seen him so flustered.

“Oh, you’ll be begging alright,” she said in the sultriest of tones; a tone that had his irises darkening to a hue she could only classify as the color of midnight. “Are you coming, or not?”

“Oh I am most definitely coming.” Killian took her hand and practically dragged her towards the exit. As he held the door open for her, he purred into her ear. “And I won’t be the only one. After you, love.”

~/~

“I hope you don’t plan on walking much tomorrow,” Killian growled hungrily in her ear. 

“I don’t plan on leaving this bed tomorrow,” she panted. “Or letting you leave it either.”

“Happy to hear we are of one mind, love.”

Killian trailed hot, wet kisses down Emma’s neck while his hands continued their unyielding assault on her body. His mouth replaced the work of his fingers on her nipple, flicking it with his tongue then sucking it into the pleasurable bite of his teeth. Emma keened at the feel of his hand sliding down her body, and moaned when it reached the slick apex of her thighs.

“Mmm, someone’s eager,” Killian murmured into her skin. He chuckled when she bucked her hips, silently urging him to get a move on when his fingers did no more than toy with her sensitive flesh. “Didn’t you say  _I’d_  be the one begging, Swan?” 

“Didn’t you say something to the effect of ladies first?” she shot back.

“Indeed, I did.” Without warning he sank two fingers deep within her welcoming heat, causing her to cry out his name. “And I am a man of my word, love.”


	4. They Were Roommates!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roommates connected drabbles: you’re hot when you’re angry / why are you siting over there? there’s a perfectly good lap right here / Don’t make me come over there
> 
> ~/~ indicates the start of the next prompt

* * *

 

“You’re hot when you’re angry.”

“And you’re annoying when you’re drunk. Actually… you’re annoying even when you aren’t drunk.”

“I believe charming is the word you’re searching for, darling.”

Emma smothered a grin in the back of Killian’s shoulder as she continued to try and wrestle him into the passenger side of her bug.

“There is nothing charming about having to come collect your drunk ass from the bar at one o’clock in the morning,” she huffed before slamming the door and making her way to the driver’s side.

“You don’t really find me annoying, do you Swan?” Killian slurred self-consciously with his eyelids hanging heavy.

Emma sighed and couldn’t bring herself to stay frustrated with him. “I suppose no more than you thinking I’m  _hot when I’m angry,_  or at all, _”_ she quipped, knowing he’d only said it to get a rise out of her. Her roommate couldn’t possibly see her that way, the way she saw him.

“Gods, I don’t see how you put up with me then,” Killian lamented forlornly before passing out, leaving Emma too shocked to do anything but stare at him as the bug idled.

~/~

“Why are you sitting over there? There’s a perfectly good lap right here.” Killian patted the top of his thighs a bit heavily in his drunken state, and attempted to give Emma a saucy wink. He exaggeratedly blinked instead.

Emma snorted then stood when she heard the whistle of the kettle from the kitchen. After arriving back at their apartment, it had taken a Herculean effort to wake her roommate and get him up the stairs. She refused to let him go to bed until he’d had some water and aspirin, telling him to stay put on the couch while she sat in the chair to remove her boots.

“You probably don’t even know who I am right now,” she muttered. Convinced that in his inebriated state he hadn’t even realized who it was that had collected him from the bar, Emma reconciled that as the only reason why he’d said what he had in her car. There was no way her roommate of two years actually found her attractive, desirable… wanted.

“‘Course I do,” he scoffed somewhat coherently. “You’re my Swan. My roommate. The woman I love.”

Emma froze. What did he just say?

Too stunned by his words to move for a second time that night, Emma jumped and spun around when she felt him come up behind her. His arms snaked around her waist and his face nuzzled into her hair. Was this really happening? A small whimper slipped past her lips when she felt his mouth start making it’s way up her neck towards her ear, her legs turning to jelly in response. His hands skimmed down her body and firmly planted themselves against her backside.

Emma gasped at the tight squeeze he gave, and Killian chuckled in her ear. “Your ass seemed lonely without my hands on it.”

And just like that, reality snapped back into place.

“Killian. You’re drunk.” She pushed him away then had to reach out and catch him as he stumbled so he wouldn’t end up on the floor. 

He swayed and caught her around the waist again, completely undeterred by her action; a boyish grin plastered on his too handsome face.

“Aye. That I am.” He stared down at her, his lids becoming heavy again, and his entire countenance changed. “I’m sorry, Emma.” 

There it was. The moment Emma had been expecting. The one where he’d tell her he hadn’t meant the things he’d said, that it was just the booze talking. It was a good thing she’d taken that deep breath in preparation for it, because his next words sucked all the oxygen out of the room.  

“I realize my timing is lousy, and that it’s bad form to do and say these things now that you’re engaged, but without this bit of liquid courage, I might not ever say them.” His hands moved from her waist to cup her face, and his eyes shone with more clarity than they had all night. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

It took Emma’s brain several seconds to process the feel of his lips against hers before she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. 

~/~

“Don’t make me come over there.” 

Killian flinched at Swan’s harsh tone; the sound affecting both is aching heart and his aching head. He’d slowly sat up, realizing he’d apparently slept on their couch, his stomach rolling and his head pounding at the effort, when a groan had brought his roommate’s attention to him.

“Swan? What uh… what happened last night?” 

“You got drunk,” she cheeked at him. “And you need to lie back down.”

She continued to bustle around their kitchen, making tea and toast by the looks of it, and Killian’s stomach rolled again. Not from the excessive amounts of alcohol his body was attempting to purge, but because, after the events of the previous evening, he knew they wouldn’t have many more mornings like this.

A tray of hangover provisions was gently set on the coffee table in front of him, and Killian offered a wry smile at Emma’s insistence that he try and eat something.

“I gathered as much,” Killian said, sipping hesitantly at his tea as Emma settled onto the sofa next to him. “What I meant was, how did I get home? I have no recollection of leaving the bar.”

A wash of something lapped across Emma’s face. “You don’t remember me coming to get you at one in the morning?”

Killian groaned. “Sodding Scarlet. I told him not to trouble you.”

“Well, you were in no condition to be left to your own devices, so I’d cut the guy some slack.”

“Yes, but last night was-” Killian forced his mouth shut, and flicked his gaze to her left hand where he noticed a distinct lack of sparkle. His brows furrowed together. Neal was suppose to propose last night. He’d shown the ring to Killian days before as he’d prattled on about his grand plan; neither of which - the ring nor planned proposal - seemed to suit Emma at all, but Killian had kept his opinions to himself. As he had for the duration of their courtship. Because he was a compete and utter fool.

“Last night was what?”

Killian swallowed. Had something happened to delay the proposal? Had he just ruined the surprise? Not that he gave a bloody damn about ruining Neal’s big moment, but he did hate the idea of taking anything away from his Swan. No. She wasn’t his. He had to stop thinking that way.

“Killian?” Emma prompted. She reached out her hand and placed it on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze while coaxing his gaze to meet hers. 

“I was under the impression,” Killian sighed then clamped his eyes shut at the fresh wave of nausea cresting over him, “that something rather monumental was going to happen whilst you were on your date with Neal.”

“You mean his ridiculous proposal, or the fact that I said no?”

Killian’s eyes flew open. “You… what?”

“I said no.”

“W-Why?”

“For the same reason you drank yourself into a stupor when you thought I was going to become engaged to someone else,” she whispered softly, and Killian realized just how close they were to one another. “Because I love you too, Killian.”

_Too? What else did I bloody well miss?_


	5. Sneaky Tryst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky tryst drabble: Are you saying this doesn’t turn you on?

* * *

 

“Are you saying this doesn’t turn you on?”

“I said no such thing,” Killian replied in a slightly strained tone. “Not did I imply it. I merely suggested that it would be bad form to leave the party when it had barely begun.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” Emma murmured into his ear before slipping the lobe back between her teeth.

Killian swallowed heavily and stifled a groan before asking, “Are you suggesting we-”

“I’m not  _suggesting_ anything.” Emma’s lips trailed down his neck, and her hands made quick work of his belt before moving to the fastenings of his pants. “I’m telling you there’s a lock on that door, and that you might want to make use of it.”

In the amount of time it took him to fumble around for the door lock behind him, Emma had freed his erection and sank to her knees. Killian was pretty sure his brain had short circuited from the look she was giving him as she gazed up at him from beneath her lashes, running her tongue over her lips before using it to collect the bead of arousal that had formed at his tip. 

A loud thud echoed through the room when the back of his head came to rest on the door. Warm, shushing breath ghosted over his length, and Killian’s grip on the knob in his hand tightened when Emma took him into her mouth. 

_Holy fuck!_  his mind screamed, since he knew he couldn’t utter the actual words without risk of being heard. That knowledge didn’t stop a moan breaking free from the back of his throat when Emma reached between his legs to fondle him as she continued to bob along his length. Vibrations from her own moans had him biting down hard on his lip, his hips began to thrust on their own accord, and he buried his other hand in her hair to urge on at a faster pace.

“Yes, love,” he panted when he felt the telltale flutters of impending release begin to build low in his gut. “Just like that. Gods you make me feel so bloody good.”

Another hummed sensation rippled over his cock, and it proved to be his undoing. Without warning his orgasm slammed into him, and spilled down Emma’s throat in hot spurts of pure bliss. A silent cry tore at his throat as he choked back her name while his body convulsed with small spasm of ecstasy from her continued ministrations as she refused to leave him even the least bit unsatisfied.  

When his body finally stilled, minus the heaving of his chest and racing of his pulse, Emma released him from her glorious mouth and started putting him back to rights. 

“We should probably get back to the party,” she said once she finally had his belt back into place. “You wanna unlock the door, Jones?”

“I don’t think so, Swan.” He spun them around so she was the one now pressed against the door with him kneeling down at her feet.

“Killian,” she gasped with wide eyes as his hands moved up her legs and under her skirt. “We can’t. We’ve already been gone too long.”

Killian looked up at her with a smirk at his lips and sin in his eyes. “Are you saying this doesn’t turn you on?”


	6. Sex Isn't The Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Additional prompt drabble: Sex isn’t the answer

* * *

 

“Sex isn’t the answer, Swan.” 

“You’re right. Sex is the question, and the answer is yes. So, take your pants off, Killian.” 

“Love, I’m not sleeping with you just so you can get back at your philandering boyfriend. Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to just punch Walsh in the face?”

“Are you seriously suggesting that punching Walsh would give me more pleasure than you could?”

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

“You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe punching Walsh would be more satisfying than-”

“Take your pants off, Swan.”


	7. Keeping Him Occupied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the delightful Nonny who filled my in box on Tumblr with their thoughts on a certain gif from 3x21, and what would have happened if Emma’s hand had slipped a bit higher up. Much love to @artistic-writer and @kmomof4 for giving this the once (twice? thrice?) over for me. Enjoy this offering of highly questionable public behavior that borders on exhibitionism. Rated M / ~2k

 

* * *

“Just two ships passing in the night, then?”

“Passing closely, I hope.”

“Speaking of ships, what do you say we leave this place, and I'll show you mine?”

“Wait.” Emma reached out to place a hand on his thigh in order to keep him from leaving. “How about we have a few drinks first?” she suggested coyly, missing his thigh altogether and resting her fingertips someplace else.

Hook’s eyes darkened as hers widened. She froze, unsure of what to do about her hand.

“Tell you what, love.” Hook’s voice to seem to drop a full octave, giving it a dark, sensual tone. Well, more sensual than normal. “We’ll stay and have a few more drinks, _if_ you keep doing _that_.”

He moved closer to her along the bench as he resumed his seat, causing her fingers to glide up the hardness beneath his leathers until she was cupping him in the palm of her hand. Emma warred with herself for several seconds before casually scanning the tavern to make sure no one was looking or would be able to see what was about to occur under their table. When she turned her eyes back to Hook, she wore a coquettish smile as she poured him another drink with her free hand while kneading him with the palm of the other.

A soft grunt resonated from the back of his throat, and his tongue glided along his bottom lip in an utterly sinful manner. He threw back the contents she’d poured out for him then moved his hand beneath the table. Grabbing hold of her wrist, he prompted her to switch it with her other hand, which he was guiding from where it rested atop the table with the curve of his hook. He then gathered her skirts and positioned them in such a way that her hand and his lap would be covered by their voluminous layers.

“Clever,” Emma mused, resuming the motion she’d been employing along his rigid length as he placed his hand at her hip with his arm resting along the outside of her skirts. “Done this before, have you?”

“A gentleman never tells,” he teased, slightly strained with his fingers digging into her hip.

Emma bit her lip against the smile creeping at its corners; a response of fond remembrance. “You’re a gentleman now, huh?”

His eyes narrowed on her and he crept a bit closer, his knee brushing up against her inner thigh. “I’m always a gentleman,” he purred.

Emma’s chest heaved from a fresh swell of desire, sending a rush of heat over her entire body. Hook’s eyes snapped to where her breasts were straining against the damned corset, his irises now a dark midnight color. Clumsily, Emma began to work on the fastenings of his pants, unfamiliar with their construction, but determined to remove the barrier between her hand and his cock.

A sultry sigh escaped him and his eyes fluttered shut when she finally freed him from the confines of his leathers. His hook scraped across the top of the table and dug in on one of the knot holes when she wrapped her hand around him. Hot and velvety and heavy in her hand, Emma flushed again at the thought of it filling _her_ instead of her grip and began stroking a languid rhythm up and down its length.

“Blood hell,” he bit out through clenched teeth, his hand gripping her waist a bit tighter. A rosy tint bloomed over his cheeks, and the chords in his neck tightened. “You’re a marvel, love.”

The throbbing ache between her legs became more prominent with each pump of her hand, causing her to shift in an attempt to press her legs together. The effort was hindered by Hook’s knee, still pressed against her thigh. Desperate to alleviate the ache, Emma tilted her pelvis forward and began grinding against Hook’s knee.

A smirk pulled at his lips and echoed itself along his brow as he gave her a smug stare. It didn’t last long, disrupted by a sudden succession of stuttering gasps when she rotated her hand and began to pump him faster. Her hips moved in time and her teeth dug into her lip, forcing back the moans collecting in the back of her throat.

Without warning, Hook’s hand grasped her hand and stilled it. “I think,” he began on labored breaths, “that it is high time we take this back to my ship.”

Lust and need took over, overriding her good sense, and she nodded, removing her hand with one last swipe of her thumb over the tip of his member, causing him to suck in a grunting breath.

“Minx,” he muttered while tucking himself back into his leathers, and doing up the fastenings only well enough to keep himself from springing out as they walked back to his ship. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Do you intend to punish me, Captain?” Emma taunted.

“Aye,” he replied, standing and offering her his hand to assist her off the bench. He pulled her into his chest, his lips inches from hers, and promised, “You’ll be begging for my mercy before I’m done with you.”

“I don’t beg,” she retorted sharply, meeting his heated gaze with a glint of defiance.

“Is that so?” His brow cocked up his forehead, and a feral grin took over his face. “Well, I do so love a challenge.”

Hook pulled her towards the exit, and the cool night air did little to relieve the heat of desire she knew was radiating off her body. A rough tug of her hand had her stumbling into a dark alley and pressed against a stone wall just out of sight of anyone that might pass by. Hook’s lips latched onto the juncture between her neck and jaw, and her knees nearly gave out.

“I thought… oh,” Emma gasped when he pulled her earlobe between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue. “I thought we were going to your ship?”

“Aye, love. We are,” he assured her. His breath sent a quiver of pleasure through her which settled wantonly between her legs. God, if he could make her react like that with just his breath, she could only imagine what he could do with his tongue… or any other part of him, for that matter. “I thought you might enjoy a bit of a detour.”

While his lips set a path back down her neck, his hand rucked up her skirts until he could slip it beneath and find her leg. “No stockings? You are a naughty lass, aren’t you?” His hand slid up her leg to her hip where he toyed with the edges of her panties. “Intriguing,” he murmured against her neck, continuing his tactile examination of her underwear. “I don’t think I’ve ever come across a garment such as this before.” Pulling his lips from her neck, his glassy, lust filled eyes roamed her face as he pondered aloud, “Just who are you, love?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she answered breathlessly.

“Perhaps, I would.”

His mouth descended and began to plunder hers, eager and demanding, while his fingers slipped beneath her panties and made contact with the wetness pooling there. He groaned into her mouth and she thrust her hips forward, urging him along in his ministrations.

“So wet,” he rasped into her skin, now paying his special attentions to the other side of her neck.

His fingers glided through her folds, familiarizing themselves with her sex, while the heel of his palm applied a rocking pressure against her clit. Emma’s head fell back against the stones, and she arched further into his touch. She jumped a little at the feel of cool metal against her leg, his hook prompting her to sling her leg over his hip so he could better attend to her; a prompting she happily complied with, and a cry of pleasure escaped her when he slid a finger inside.

“Hush, love,” Hook admonished softly. “You’ll attract the wrong sort with those noises, and I am _not_ the sharing type.”

His words sobered her slightly. She most definitely did not want to draw attention to their activities, especially when she considered the fact that _her_ Hook... no, _not_ hers, um… the fact that _Killian_ would start to worry and come looking for her at some point. All those concerns went flying out of her head when another finger sank into her and his thumb did something miraculous over her clit.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged, his words caressing her collarbone, along with his teeth.

Emma pried a hand off the wall she was anchoring herself to and slid it between them, intending to match the way he was pumping his fingers into her, with him in her hand.

“Ah, ah,” he chastised playfully, his hook catching her wrist within its curve and pulling her hand away. “As a gentleman, I must insist. Ladies first.”

His tongue sent sparks skittering across her skin, pebbling her flesh in its wake as it traced her collarbone then over the swell of her breasts until it dipped into her cleavage. Emma’s breaths came in labored bouts from the feel of his fingers frantically coaxing her to higher levels of ecstacy. A twinge of exquisite pain from where he was now sucking a brand into her cleavage, mixed with the precision of his hand had her desperate for release.

“Hook,” she breathed.

“Aye?” he replied, his smug smirk nearly audible. “What is it, love?”

“I...I need.” She wet her lips and swallowed.

“I know,” he said. “All you have to do is say please.” Emma groaned. The bastard would make her beg for it. “Just one little please, and I’ll give you want you need.”

To hell with her pride. It wasn’t like he would remember any of this anyway… she hoped… kind of.

“Please,” she moaned. “Hook, please!”

“As you wish.”

His words had her tumbling off the precipice, and she crashed into a sensation of complete bliss. She knew Hook had been uttering words of praise and encouragement in her ear, but none of them registered as she came off her high. At some point she must have grasped onto his upper arms for support. She let her head fall forward against his shoulder and his hooked arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as he removed his hand from between her legs.

“I trust the lady is satisfied,” he murmured into her hair. Emma hummed in response which made his chest shake from the chuckle resonating there. “Not too satisfied that you would refuse to join me on my ship for a _nightcap_ , I hope?” He rolled his hips into her at the mention of a nightcap, leaving little doubt in Emma’s mind as to the type of _refreshment_ he was referring to.

Lifting her head, she looked up at him and saw anticipation dance in his eyes. Surely, they had time for a nightcap. She was supposed to keep him _occupied_ , after all.

“Lead the way, Captain.”

~/~

“Are you kidding me?!” Emma exclaimed, eyes wide as she took in Hook’s collapsed form on the floor. Knocked clean out from the right hook Killian had delivered against his jaw. “How is _that_ not gonna have consequences?”

“He was asking for it,” Killian defended. “And, like I said, he'll blame the rum.

Now let's get out of here.”

Emma went to clamor back up the hatch steps when Killian called out to her.

“Swan?” The drawled, slightly accusatory tone in his voice made her stop with one foot positioned on the first rung of the hatch steps. “Care to explain why the laces of his pants are loosened in such a manner?”

Slowly, she turned from the ladder and faced him, a betraying heat rushing to her cheeks.

Killian sauntered forward until she was pressed against the hard edges of the steps. His forget-me-not eyes searched her guilt riddled face then flicked down. The muscle in his jaw jumped when he caught sight of the mark his past self had left on her skin. Looking back up at her through his dark lashes, he leaned in, his lips a breath away from hers, and whispered, “Something you care to tell me, Swan? Or… perhaps you’d like to _show_ me instead?”

The End


	8. Neverland - Continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the Neverland based drabbles from Chapter 2

* * *

“I hope you’re not too fond of that shirt.”

Killian’s husky words preceded the removal of his hook from the wall where he’d had Emma’s hand trapped. She shivered at the feel of its cold metal against her skin, the sharp tip gently gliding along her collarbone until it met the edge of her tank top. Slowly, he dragged the strap down her arm, and a firm tug caused the fabric to tear when it met resistance.

“That’s gonna be awkward to explain when we get back to camp,” Emma murmured.

“Nonsense,” Killian scoffed. “Everyone knows all manner of accidents can happen when two people engage in… _swordplay_.”

“Speaking of…” Emma arched her back, and pressed her ass against his erection while swiveling her hips. “Aren’t you supposed to be jabbing me with something?”

“Patience, love,” Killian grunted. The delectable feel of her backside grazing over his length sent a swell of renewed desire straight to his groin, making him throb and ache in the best of ways. “You’ll be feeling the _thrust_ of my weapon soon enough.” He sealed his promise by rocking his hips forward, allowing his cock to slide between her legs where he could feel the wetness awaiting him in her folds. “Bloody hell, Swan,” he groaned, pitching his head forward to rest on her shoulder, collecting his composure so he didn’t spill himself on the jungle floor.

They worked together to remove her torn shirt, his hook and hand slipping the straps of her bra down her arms in order to give him access to her breasts. He kneaded one in his hand as they swiveled and rocked their hips together in a sultry dance, priming them both for the moment he slid inside her, fully seating himself with one long thrust.

“Gods, but you feel amazing, Swan,” Killian rasped in her ear, admiring the eruption of rippled flesh and fine hairs standing on end from the caress of his breath.

“You know what would feel even more amazing?” Emma asked breathlessly before answering her own inquiry with a note of needy urgency. “You moving.”

“As you wish, love,” he chuckled, pulling back slowly then slamming back into her warm depths. The action was repeated again and again until the found their natural rhythm and gave themselves over to the sensations of pleasure.

Short, rapid breaths, sultry moans and gasps, the slap of skin as she welcomed him over and over again echoed off the cliff face. Perspiration broke out over their flushed skin, and the feel of her walls clenching around him as that string of building ecstasy grew more taut with each snap of his hips was almost his undoing. Releasing his hold from her breast, his hand skimmed down her body until it reached that wondrous bud between her thighs.

“Fuck, Killian,” Emma moaned as he stroked and flicked her sensitive flesh.

“What do you think I’ve been doing, love?” Killian quipped cheekily in her ear.

“Great,” she panted, her voice breathless and shaky. As shaky as her legs were becoming, a tell that she must be close. “Not only are you talkative in bed, you think you’re amusing, too.”

“We aren’t in a bed, Swan.” _Gods, he was close._ “And your _amusement_ is not my aim. But rest assured, I never miss my mark.”

Changing the angle of his thrust, his pace became punishing and frantic. His heart felt as though it would pound out of his chest, and he could feel the tightness in his balls reaching its peak as the flare of impending release resonated at the base of his spine. Emma cried out his name, her walls clamping down over his length as she rode out the rush of rapture sweeping through her.

“Yes... yes... yes,” Killian staccatoed on labored breaths before guttural groans broke free from the back of his throat. At the last possible moment, he pulled out and spent himself across her lower back.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned forward to rest his head between her shoulders, not giving a damn about the mess that now coated them both. Their breathing calmed, heart rates returning to normal, with Emma bracing herself against the cliff wall, supported by Killian’s strong arms. Long minutes went by until they finally moved, neither seemed willing to let the moment end. Killian reached down and grabbed Emma’s discarded shirt then used it to wipe away the evidence of their tryst.

“A torn shirt is one thing,” she said while donning her pants, “but I think it might raise some eyebrows if I return to camp with no shirt at all.”

Killian smirked and hummed in agreement before flicking the buttons of his waist coat open. His eyes remained fixed on Emma as he removed the vest, pulled down his suspenders, then reached back to grasp the collar of his shirt. After pulling it over his head he sauntered up to her, noting how her eyes raked over his chest as she wet her lips.

“Here, Swan,” he offered, holding out his shirt to her. “You can tell everyone you won it right off my back during our _swordplay_.”


	9. Properly: Neverland - Conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt from @blowmiakisscolin: this prompt for a drabble (or a oneshot or whatever you’re feeling for it) struck me today and you were one of the people I immediately thought of! So here it is! S2/3 Neverland or Storybrooke divergent, whichever takes your fancy. Smutty CS goodness in the ‘getting caught in the act’ trope. Preferably by Neal (because I hate him lol!). His reaction and theirs can be anything you want!
> 
> With a little inspiration from my Naughty Nonny added in ;o)
> 
> Continued from my previous Neverland Sexy Starter Drabbles from chapters 2 and 8
> 
> Rated E / ~4200 words / voyeur!Neal elements, anti-Neal

 

* * *

They both received a myriad of looks when they entered camp with Emma wearing Hook’s shirt. Her mother smothered a look of shock while her father didn’t bother to disguise his look of thunder. Tink wore a slightly smug smirk; her eyes dancing with mirth at the rosy tint coloring Hook’s cheeks as he explained how he gallantly offered his shirt when hers became torn during their sparring lesson. Neal looked as though he’d just finished swallowing glass with a chaser of nails when Emma confirmed Hook’s tale, her own guilt rising up her neck in a flush of heat she knew matched the color of Hook’s ears.

No one was buying their story, but Emma couldn’t bring herself to care. She was a grown ass woman, she didn’t have to explain herself or justify her actions to anyone. Not to the parents who sent her through a magical wardrobe, not some wingless fairy, and certainly not to the man who’d betrayed her and didn’t seem to comprehend that there would be no coming back from it. The only person she owed an explanation to was Hook.

He would probably tell her that no such explanation was required, but after his confession in Echo Cave, and the number of _dalliances_ they’d shared since arriving on this accursed island, Emma knew it had to be weighing on him. Knew he had to be wondering what it all meant, if it, indeed, meant anything at all.

_Did it?_

Emma would like to pretend that it didn’t. That their moments together had simply been a means to an end, a way to distract herself from the anxiety and fear she felt over Henry, to let off some steam before the real battle began, but she knew it was a lie. Not that there wasn’t truth in those justifications, but if all she offered him were the excuses she’d been trying to convince herself with, then it would be a poor way to repay the vulnerable and selfless honesty he’d given so freely to help rescue the man he admitted to considering a rival.

But Neal was no rival. There was no contest. She’d already made her choice. It had been clear as day when she’d watched Hook get pinned against that tree in the Dark Hollow, and then used her feelings for him to light the candle in order to save him from the shadow. Feelings that had begun to develop long before he did what Neal hadn’t; he’d come back.

“Hook? Where are you going?” David asked, pulling Emma from her thoughts.

“Back to the _Roger_ for a new shirt,” the pirate answered, flicking a teasing look her way. “I won’t be long.”

“You shouldn’t go alone.” David’s hands rested on his hips, bracing themselves there in that no nonsense way Emma had come to attribute to the _prince_ side of him.

“I’ll go with him,” she blurted out, drawing a mixture of startled and knowing glances her way. She swallowed down the compulsion to make an excuse as to why she’d just volunteered and stood to follow her… um, _the_ pirate, out of the campsite.

“Not that I am not pleased by your company Swan, but I truly do not need an escort.” He stopped and spun around, backing her up to a large tree where he caged her in while devouring her with his heated, yet teasing gaze. “Or can you simply not get enough of my _company_?”

“I’m not escorting you.” She pressed her hands against his chest in order to keep him from leaning in any closer. “We need to talk.”

His lighthearted demeanor evaporated and he took a few steps back. A dark shadow of disappointment and begrudged acceptance passed over his features as he began his trek towards his ship once more.

“I find when a woman says that I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

“I don’t want what happened between us to be a one time thing.” She really needed to stop blurting everything out like that.

Hook froze mid-stride before slowly turning back to her, a look of restrained disbelief upon his face. “Come again?”

“You said, I’d have to choose,” she reminded him as she took tentative steps forward until her neck was craning to look up into his forget-me-not eyes. “I’m not saying that,” she paused to wet her lips and gather her thoughts. She’d never really been very good at heartfelt expressions, and the idea that any of these words might be coming from her heart made her want to hightail it out of there, but he’d once encouraged her to try something new, so… here goes. “I’m not choosing Neal. Despite what everyone else thinks is best, and the fact that he’s Henry’s father, and that some part of me will always…”

Hook - _Killian_ \- took her hand when the words got caught in her throat, brushing a soothing line over the tops of her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “It’s alright, Swan. I understand. Past loves will always remain with us. There is no dishonor in that.”

She mirrored his soft smile and her heart fluttered in response to the hopeful arching of his brows as he patiently waited for her to continue. A patience that seemed to come to an end when self doubt began to churn in her stomach, making her momentarily falter under the unexpected surge of emotion his hope created within her.

“Are you saying,” he gently prompted, “when we return to Storybrooke, with your lad safe in hand, you’ll allow me to court you properly?”

Emma arched a brow. “Doesn’t proper kind of go against the pirate code?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a lower register that made her insides quiver. “You seemed _properly_ satisfied by my efforts earlier.”

Emma slipped her hand beneath his opened waistcoat, gliding her fingertips up his exposed chest and toying with the edges of his suspenders while flirtily glancing up at him through her lashes. “And courting me properly wouldn’t keep us from being able to…”

“Give each other a _proper_ fuck?” Killian supplied in a tone of silk and sin that had Emma pulling him to her by his suspender strap, until his lips and body were flush with her own.

His waistcoat hit the jungle floor and Emma began peeling his suspenders over his shoulders and down his arms while he maneuvered them to a towering tree where he pinned her against the trunk. Hands fumbled at the fastenings of the other’s pants (well hands and a hook), until they’d bared one another enough to continue on in pursuit of their goal.

Killian lifted her effortlessly off the ground, barely giving her time to wrap her legs around his waist and cling to his shoulders before he lined himself up at her entrance and began to push inside.

“Bloody hell, but the feel of you around me, Swan,” he groaned into the side of her neck. “It will surely be my undoing.”

Emma knew exactly what he meant. Even partially seated within her, she’d never felt so full, so satisfied, so complete with any other partner like she did with Hook. Their lips found one another again and they enjoyed a long, languid kiss while their bodies shifted and worked together to find that perfect stance and position that would allow his member to bury itself deep within her, hitting her perfectly with each roll of hips.

Just as they hit their rhythm, Killian stopped midthrust and tensed. His head turned so his gaze could peruse the foliage next to them, and the muscle in his jaw started flickering like mad as he ground his teeth together.

“Killian? What is it?” What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer her. Narrowing his eyes at the overgrowth of brush he growled, “Enjoying the show, mate?”

Emma’s eyes widened when after a moment’s pause of deadly quiet, someone emerged from the thick of the jungle.

“Neal!” she exclaimed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he shot back defiantly, as though he hadn’t just been caught pervily watching them.

“Fucking,” she quipped sharply, pulling Killian in closer to her when she sensed him about to step away. “So, if you don’t mind…”

“Oh, no. Of course not. Why would I mind,” Neal retorted mockingly. “It’s not as if the woman I _just_ told I’d never stop fighting for is standing in front of me with another man’s dick up her-”

“Perhaps I should leave the two of you to work this out,” Killian interjected.

Emma had to bite back the whimper protesting against her tongue when she felt him pull out and set her feet back onto the jungle floor. Turning his back to Neal, he began pulling up his leather trousers, securing the laces and snapping his suspenders back into place, all the while shielding her from Neal’s view as she shimmied her jeans back up.

“Oh, sure,” Neal carried on with long pent up anger saturating his words like venom. “Swoop in, destroy another family, and then conveniently disappear.” Grabbing Hook’s shoulder, he swung the pirate around to face him and Emma watched as Killian’s hand clenched itself into a fist, though he showed great restraint in not throwing it towards Neal. “I’m not going to let you steal Emma away from me like you did with my mother.”

“I didn’t steal your mother away, Bae,” Killian reminded him with a low and dangerous tone. “Nor am I _stealing_ Emma. To do so would imply that she somehow belongs to you, and any man who would think of her as some sort of possession, or loot, is a fool.”

“But you do think she’s some sort of prize to be won, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have called it a contest.”

The smug look on Neal’s face, throwing Killian’s words (which were actually her words) back at him, caused a flare of indignation to spark within Emma’s chest as she realized, “You were eavesdropping?”

“Like I was gonna trust a pirate to be alone with you after he admitted you two had a… what did you call it? A dalliance?”

“So what? You’ve been spying on me, on us, all this time?”

Neal’s face flamed red.

“Oh, my God! Were you _watching_ us earlier? When we were practicing with swords?”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” Neal quipped with a rude edge of lewdness. “Because I’d call it being a terrible mother, satisfying your own selfish urges over rescuing our son... Huh?” Neal cocked his head and sneered at Killian. “Worthless whores who abandon their sons really are your type.”

Emma gasped as the sound of Killian slugging Neal ricocheted off the trees.

“Hook!”

“How dare you?” Hook seethed, advancing towards Neal with an aura of rage possessing him.

“Hook!” Emma called out again, placing herself between him and Neal.

The murderous gaze in his eyes nearly took her breath away. A shiver of something more primal than fear skittered along her spine, making her skin come alive in suspense. Icy blue eyes snapped to her and she watched as fury turned to regret within their depths.

“I’ll handle this,” she said softly.

A quiet resignation took hold of him and he nodded. “I will leave you to it, then,” he murmured before heading off, back in the direction towards his ship.

Emma rounded on Neal, crossing her arms over her chest so she didn’t follow suit and take a swing at him herself. “Where the hell do you get off talking to either of us like that?”

Neal at least had the decency to look ashamed, wincing at her words as much as the bruise forming under his fingertips at his cheek. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said, but come on, Emma. Hook? You’re really choosing Hook? What about us?”

“What about us?” Emma asked before holding up her hand to stop whatever it was Neal was about to respond with. “You know what… no. There is no _us_. There is a you, and a me, but no _us_.”

“What about Henry, then? Or did you forget the reason we’re even here?”

“Of course, I haven’t forgotten,” Emma snarled, taking a step forward with such fervor it cause Neal to stumble backward. “Don’t you dare insinuate that anything is more important to me than getting Henry back.” Neal’s brows shot up with a look of smugness, but again Emma continued on before he could utter a counter argument. “We have a plan in place. Tink, Hook, _and you_ all agreed when the best time would be to infiltrate Pan’s camp, and until then… we wait. How I choose to spend that time is _none_ of your business.”

“And what about when we get back to Storybrooke? Don’t you think it’s my business who has access to my son? Because if I have a say in it, Hook isn’t allowed anywhere near Hen-”

Emma scoffed amusedly, “If you have a say? You’re lucky _you’re_ allowed anywhere near Henry. So, let’s get one thing straight.” She took one more step forward and fixed Neal with a hard stare. “If you want to continue to have a place in Henry’s life when we get back to Storybrooke you’re going to have to swallow your distaste and make nice like the rest of us have to. You think I enjoy sharing my son with Regina? You think I’m at all thrilled that Gold is his grandfather? No, but I put up with them and make the best of it for _his_ sake. I don’t know what is going to happen between Killian and I when we get back, but I can tell you that you have _zero_ say in the matter. Not when it comes to he and I as a couple, and not when it comes to how he and Henry choose to interact with one another.”

She didn’t wait for Neal’s reply, turning on her heel and stomping off through the jungle towards the Jolly Roger instead. The audacity of the man made her blood boil. Who was he to dish out demands about _her_ son, to stipulate who could be involved in Henry’s life and who couldn’t? It was his fucking finance who had kidnapped Henry in the first place. She should have reminded him of that. Trudging through the overgrowth, additional points and arguments flitted through her mind, and she tucked each away for later use in case the matter came up again.

Finally aboard Hook’s ship, Emma took a deep, calming breath before heading down to the captain’s cabin. Standing just outside the door, she hesitated knocking as uncertainty and self-doubt began to creep in. Should she even be here? Did he need some space? The image of his expression after he’d punched Neal then relented to her insistence that she’d handle things swam in her mind.

She understood that look all too well.

He thought he’d blown it, that his actions had destroyed any opportunity of a future for them. He was probably drowning his sorrows with that flask of his that never seemed to run low on rum. When the door swung open, she sighed heavily when that supposition proved true. Slumped down in his desk chair, taking long pulls from his flask, Killian was staring at a piece of worn parchment laying before him that looked as though it had been folded and unfolded many times over. The boards beneath her feet creaked as she took a step into the room, snapping his attention to her.

“Swan?” He promptly stood, stoppering his flask and returning it to his pocket before reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “I wasn’t expecting you to come here.”

“I said I’d come with you to get a new shirt,” she reminded him, noting with some disappointment that he’d already seen to the task. Though, his suspenders were still down and his waistcoat was draped over the valet in the corner of the room, a fresh, billowing shirt hung untucked and halfway open down the front, revealing a tantalizing amount of chest hair.

“I suppose I ought to apologize,” he said tightly with his eyes now downcast towards his desk. “For losing my temper with Neal.”

“Why?” Emma dismissed, coming to stand in front of his desk, the parchment he’d been staring at now clear within her sight. “He deserved it.”

Killian’s eyes snapped up, his raised brow betraying the astonishment he felt at her words.

“He didn’t have a right to say those things… about _either_ of us.” She tilted her gaze down to the parchment, the portrait of a woman she knew could only be Milah, emphasizing the understanding that she knew his actions were as much for his past love’s honor as they were for her.

Killian’s cheeks flushed red and he turned the parchment over. “Apologies, love.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Killian.” She moved around the desk and stood before him, her hand taking hold of his. “Past loves will always remain with us. There is no dishonor in that.” A shy sort of smile broke over his lips as she parroted his words back at him. “Besides, considering mine will be remaining in close proximity, at every family gathering, and making a general nuisance of himself, the least I can do is be okay with a few mementos of her memory.”

“Does that mean,” he began tentatively, “when we get back to Storybrooke, you’d still be willing to… pick up where we left off?”

“Why wait?” she suggested coyly, snaking her hand beneath the hem of his shirt and skimming it over the jumping muscles of his torso. “I was rather hoping we could pick up where we left off right now.”

He hummed low at the sensation of her touch, his eyes darkening ever so slightly as he wet his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” Emma hummed back at him, her body leaning into his when his hand released hers and wrapped around her waist.

Killian’s lips hovered over hers, his voice a silky invitation of sin as he murmured, “As my lady wishes.”

His kiss was firm and demanding, his tongue enticing in the way it licked the seam of her lips and slid seductively against her own. They each in turn pulled the other’s shirt over their heads and worked to divest one another of their garments. Emma fell back onto Killian’s bunk, her hair fanned out with her arms resting above her head and a contented sigh breaking free from the back of her throat.

She reached down and threaded her fingers through Killian’s hair while he explored the valley between her breasts with hot kisses and soft swirls of his tongue. His rough, calloused hand palmed her breast, causing her to arch into his touch. Mewling sounds, the likes of which she never thought she’d ever made before, escaped her when she felt the sharp tip of cool metal graze over her nipple.

“Like the feel of that do you?” Killian inquired huskily before replacing the cool sensation with the heat of his mouth, applying a delicious amount of pressure with his teeth.

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly, canting her hips as she reached down and grabbed onto his ass in an effort to pull him into a position that would have him cradled between her thighs and more in line with where she wanted, needed, him.

The man proved immovable and had the audacity to chuckle at her actions, sending a tremor of exquisite vibrations over her skin before releasing her pebbled flesh with a soft pop. “Eager are we, darling?”

Before she could manage a response, Killian lifted her arm to join the other above her head and held them both in place as he slid up her body. His member, hard and heavy, skimmed over her mound and her legs fell open wantonly, imploring him to take her.

“Is this what you want, love?” he breathed into her ear, rolling his hips and sending his length through her slick folds.

“God, yes!” she moaned, trying in vain to pull her hands free from his grasp so she could help guide him into her.

The bastard wasn’t having it. He rocked his hips several more times, her wrists caught in the grip of his hand and hook as the tip of his cock teased her clit mercilessly and his chest hair scratched wondrously against her nipples.

“Killian,” she whimpered, her orgasm edging ever closer with each pass of his rigidity. “Please. I need…”

“Aye, love. I know what you need.” His voice was strained. Emma opened her eyes to see the great restraint he was exerting over himself. His face was flushed and his jaw was tight, his eyes clamped shut in concentration. As much as he was enjoying this taunting game he’d started, it was clear that it was just as torturous for him.

Emma lifted her hips and began rocking them against his in a quickened pace. His lips parted with a soft grunt and cloudy, lust filled eyes gazed down at her. A cascade of pleasure rippled over her and her cry of ecstasy was swallowed by Killian’s kiss. Without missing a beat, or even letting go of her wrists, he plunged into her wet center, drawing out her orgasm with long, deep strokes. Her first release barely subsided when she felt a second begin to build, Killian hitting her in just the right spot with perfect rhythm.

She hadn’t realized how light headed she’d become from lack of a proper breath until he released her mouth to trail kisses along the column of her throat and up to her ear.

“Again, Swan,” he demanded with a hint of pleading in his tone. “Come for me again, love.”

 _As you wish_ , she thought to herself moments before her second orgasm exploded through her with rough tremors of pure bliss.

“Yes. That’s it, love,” Killian encouraged, his hips snapping against hers in a feverish pace as he chased his own release with words of praise falling from his lips.

Killian’s breath hitched and Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles together in order to keep him from pulling out.

“Emma,” he panted in half-hearted protest.

“It’s okay,” she assured him, squeezing herself around his length and pulling a groan from deep within his chest. “You don’t have to worry about anything, just come for me, Killian.”

His hips pistoned with renewed vigor until the motion became stuttered and his face contorted in breathless euphoria. Hot seed drenched her walls, washing her in a warmth that filled the innermost parts of herself in a way that transcended her physical reality.

Killian let go of her wrists and she released him from the grip of her thighs as he began to roll off to her side before collapsing next to her. She turned into him, prompting his arm to slide beneath her head so she could snuggle into his chest. His braced arm rested in the crook of her waist, the tip of his hook carefully tilted away from her flesh as their bodies continued to shudder and contract from labored breaths and aftershocks of pleasure.

“I take it back,” Emma murmured in a hushed tone once she was capable of saying the words without panting them.

“Take what back, Swan?”

“What I said about proper being against the pirate code,” she cheeked, turning her face upwards to meet his soft gaze.

“Are you saying that you are _properly_ sated, love?” He reached up with his hook and gently brushed a section of her hair away from her face.

Emma nodded, her eyes drooping as euphoria began to morph into exhaustion. “I wish we had time for a proper nap, but we should probably get back to camp before David decides to come looking for us.”

“Aye,” he murmured in agreement, though he made no effort to put that agreement into action. “Having your father discover us together like this wouldn’t be at all proper.”

“Then I suggest you stop whatever it is you’re doing before I get down there,” David’s voice declared from the secured hatch that led into the cabin from the deck above.

“Bloody hell,” Killiam muttered as they both sprang from the bed and began to dress as quickly as they could. “Please tell me when we get back to Storybrooke we’ll be able to have some proper bloody privacy.”

Once properly dressed, Killian brushed his lips over hers before heading out the cabin door, willingly facing the ire of her father first. Emma worried her lip, not wanting to remind him that she actually still lived with her parents in Mark Margaret’s loft.

“When we get back, I really need to get my own place,” she sighed, following in Killian’s wake. A smirk tugged at her lips as she thought of all the ways he could help her break in her new place.

 _Properly_.


	10. A Mighty Knead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from the lovely Sara: But now... if you want... I wouldn't mind a bread making ficlet.

* * *

 

Emma pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she stood before the giant window in the bakery that overlooked the kitchen. Transfixed, she watched as large hands worked the soft dough. Nimble fingers manipulated the pillowing proofs while strong forearms pushed and pulled the mixture, kneading it with equal measure of delicate and rough motions until it formed into a satiny ball.

She followed one of the hands as it raised, the back of it running along the brow of baker and leaving a dusting of flour in its wake. It then reached into the container beside him where he pulled out a handful of the unbleached milled wheat, before spreading it over the stainless steel surface of his work table with precise flicks of his wrist. Flecks of the white ingredient hung in the air and swirled around the man before coming to rest on his person. In his artfully tussled dark brown hair, along his auburn tinted jawline, upon his cheek, now flushed a rosy hue from the exertion of his occupation, and speckling his tight, grey, v-neck t-shirt and the wisps of chest hair peeking out from the top.

He peeled back a cloth and palmed a fresh mound of unworked dough, throwing it down hard upon the newly floured surface before leaning into it with the weight of his entire body. His biceps flexed, his pecs and shoulders tightening as he stretched the dough with an ebb and flow rhythm Emma found mesmerizing. The blue of his eyes stayed focused on the task before him and every so often his tongue would drag across his lips, a motion she found herself mimicking almost involuntarily.

“Number eighteen,” the young woman behind the bakery counter called out, snapping Emma from her wanton appreciation of the man before her musings took a turn and she began imagining those hands and efforts applied to her and not the would-be loaves of bread.

_Too late._

Emma stepped forward and placed her order, hers eyes casting furtive glances back towards the window as the woman filled it. A wave of disappointment washed over her when her final peek in the baker’s direction fell void. He must have finished his task, seeing as he was no longer in view. 

The bakery assistance handed Emma her change and receipt and wished her a good day before calling out the next number. Gathering her items in her arms, Emma turned towards the exit and nearly dropped the boxed confections. Leaning against the open doorway was the handsome baker. He’d removed his apron, revealing the tight fit of his shirt and jeans. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, highlighting the muscles she’d been admiring earlier, and a teasing tilt was set on his lips with a mischievous glint being cast her way from beneath his arched brows.

“Morning, love,” he greeted with a deep, warm lilt that made her skin prickle. “I saw you watching through the kitchen window and thought you might like a sample.”

Emma’s brow rose as she took in his lack of a sample tray. “You seem to have forgotten to bring out this promised sample,” she informed him.

A wide grin broke over his face as he pushed himself off the doorway and swaggered into her personal space. “Did I?”


	11. A Good Scrub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: Send me a job and I'll make it sexy!
> 
> Prompt: Ooh, or we could go with the worst part of my current job: washing the dishes at Red Lobster. Even my bra smells like stagnant fishy dishwater after, and I feel like I'm coated with grime. If you can make that dirty in the fun way, I'll believe you can do anything. (Er, not that I expect Killian to know the feeling of a fishy bra...) - @wyntereyez

* * *

 

The industrial sprayer sent a fine mist into the air as the new dish washer, Killian, hosed down the plates he’d just finished scrubbing. Droplets clung to the ends of his dark hair, the damp fringe falling in his face and sticking to his forehead which was also slick from the beads of sweat that had developed from the steam rising up from the sink. Beads that ran down the side of his face into his ginger tinted scruff, glistened along his collarbones, and collected in the hollow of his throat.

Dark hair matted against his forearms as he set about to scrape more plates clean in the soapy water. The muscles in his back flexed, each contracting ridge evident beneath the tank top he wore.

“Bloody hell, mate! Watch what you’re doing!” he cried out when another of the kitchen staff dumped a load of dishes in the sink, sloshing water over the side and down Killian’s front. The tank top plastered against his abs which were then revealed when he lifted the hem of his shirt to wring it out, exposing a trail of hair that tapered down to the waistband of his jeans and disappeared beneath.

“Are you going to stare at the new dish washer all night, or are you going to take care of your section,” Ruby smirked at Emma, who was once again loitering in the corner of the kitchen that gave her a clear view of the sinks.

Emma rolled her eyes at the wolfish grin her friend gave her and brushed past to get back to work, but not before glancing over her shoulder to get one last glimpse of the hot, wet man once again elbow deep in suds.

When the long night was finally over, Emma made her way towards the employee exit. After throwing the back door open, she collided with a firm, if not somewhat soggy body. Strong arms wrapped around her to keep her from stumbling back as she brought her hands up to steady herself, latching on to his shoulders.

“Careful, Swan,” he warned in his deep accented lilt. “Wouldn’t want you taking a tumble.”

“Yeah, um… thanks,” she replied a bit breathlessly.

“Headed out?” 

“Yeah.”

“Long night, huh?”

“Yeah.”  _ I need to find a new word. _ “I’m definitely ready for a nice long, hot bath to wash away the fish smell.” Her eyes widened as his darkened, his hands gripping her a bit tighter where they’d come to rest at her waist.

“Aye, the occupational hazard of working in a seafood restaurant. I never can seem to be rid of the odor. Especially in my clothes.”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” Emma replied, scrunching her nose. “Even my bra and underwear reeks of this place.”

A playful smile danced at Killian’s lips. “Well, I wouldn’t know about that,” he leaned in a bit closer and waggled his brows, “I don’t wear any underwear.”

Emma ran her tongue over her lips, a path his eyes followed with keen interest. “One less thing you have to worry about getting clean, I guess.”

“Aye, and given that I spend my entire shift washing things, I don’t fancy having to do too much of it when I get home.”

“Well,” Emma said, coyly looking up at him from beneath her lashes. “Maybe I could help you with that.”

His brow rose up his forehead and he cocked his head sideways. “With my laundry?”

“Sure,” she shrugged, running her hands over his chest, “or anything else that might need a good, hard scrub.”


	12. Happenings on the Fourth Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt sent to me by blowmiakisscolin on tumblr

* * *

 

“This is all your fault!” Emma slammed a piece of paper down on Killian’s island, his front door banging shut from where she’d just stormed into his apartment.

“Swan,” he greeted, with his usual rapscallion smirk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Yeah. My pleasure. That’s exactly to what you owe!”

Killian’s brows twisted together into a confused know. “Come again?”

“No!” Emma exclaimed. “Coming again is what got us into this mess in the first place!”

“What mess, Swan?” Killian questioned, walking towards her with his hands flicked out in inquiry. “You aren’t making any sense.”

“This. Mess,” she clipped while snatching the paper from the counter and slapping it hard against his chest. “Read this.”

“Bloody hell, woman,” he exclaimed, plucking the paper from her with one hand while rubbing his sore chest with the other. “Quite hostile, aren’t we?”

“Just read the damn notice, Jones.” She crossed in front of him and made her way over to his fridge, wrenching it open and taking a beer out as he read:

_To the woman screaming every night on the fourth floor…_

_If you are being tortured, call the police. Otherwise I (and the rest of your neighbors) do not need to hear when you’re ‘coming’. Please be quiet, or I will assume that you are in great pain and will call the police for you._

_Thanks,_

_Fed up residents on the 3rd, 4th AND 5th floors!_

A bottle cap collided with Killian’s head, preceding Emma’s indignant voice. “Stop laughing! It isn’t funny!”

“You’re right, love,” Killian said in appeasement, before his deep chuckle erupted into a full bodied laugh. “It’s bloody fucking hilarious!”

“Ass,” Emma muttered, pushing past him and slumping down onto his couch with a huff. “This is all your fault.”

“For which, I shall happily take the blame.” His eyebrows rose and fell animatedly as his tongue swept a vulgar path along his bottom lip.

“Seriously, Killian,” Emma admonished. “This is bad.”

“Why?” Killian took his usual place beside her on the couch, and coaxed her to drape her legs over his as she repositioned herself. “People seem to think that this rather _loud_ and _wanton_ woman lives here on the fourth floor. I believe your flat is on the second, is it not?”

“It doesn’t bother you at all that people can hear us?”

“Us?” Killian parroted with a playful tilt of his head and virtuous raise of his brows. “I believe the notice is only addressed to you, love.”

“Oh, God.” Emma threw her arm over her eyes and groaned loudly.

“I believe _that_ is what got us into this mess Swan, not my insistence that you come again… and again… and ag-”

“Yeah. Okay. I get the point.”

“Do you?” he teased salaciously. Reaching over, he took the beer from her hand and set it on the coffee table. “Because it would be my pleasure to hammer the point home for you if need be?” He climbed on top of her, pressing his body into hers so she could feel the _point_ he was offering to make.

“I think you got your metaphor a bit off there.” Her hands began a tantalizing glide up and down his back, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to brush over the heated flesh beneath.

“Perhaps,” he murmured huskily against her neck. “I know there’s something else I’d like to _get off_ , though.”

“And risk having the cops called on us?”

“There’ll be no need for our neighbors to involve the police if you stay quiet.” Pulling away from her slightly, he gazed down with a heated and challenging expression. “So tell me, love. Do you think you can stay quiet for me?”

“The real question is,” Emma countered back, sitting up suddenly and swapping their positions so he now sat upright with her straddling his lap, “can you?”

Slowly, she slid off him until she was kneeling between his legs. Her hands made quick work of his belt and pant fastenings, freeing his eager erection. Before he could utter a protest - though why on earth would he? - her lips latched onto the sensitive tip of his member, her tongue swirling around its head before inching her mouth down the shaft, causing his head to fall back and his eyes to roll. The hot slide of her mouth, the caress of her hand as she played with his balls and scratched her nails through the thick thatch of hair between his thighs, the way his toes curled when she swallowed him deeply down her throat, and the way her eyes flicked up periodically to meet his, all tested every bit of will he possessed to remain silent under her masterful ministrations.

A will that apparently failed him.

_… Two Days Later_

“This is all your fault!” Killian declared, barging into Emma’s second floor apartment while waving a piece of paper in front of her face.

“What’s all my fault?” she questioned just a little too innocently.

“Allow me to enlighten you,” Killian snarked, bringing the paper up with an overly dramatic flourish before reading:

_To the man on the fourth floor shouting praises to God Almighty…_

_If you feel the need to glorify God so thoroughly, please do so at a place of worship where the rest of us do not have to listen to your petitions of ‘don’t stop’. Otherwise, we might think you are calling out to God because you are under demonic attack (was it actually a demon we heard screaming a few days ago_

_announcing they were coming for you?) and call you a priest ourselves._

_Thanks,_

_Your neighbors who are becoming very concerned about the happenings on the fourth floor._


End file.
